


friction

by brandywine421



Series: massage therapy [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24111010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandywine421/pseuds/brandywine421
Summary: "You should give her a massage, she's very tense," Arthur said with a determined nod."She's my best friend's girl, I can't give her a massage," Matt replied, scandalized.A laugh burst from Arthur.  "Ah, so you admit that it's foreplay and not just a favor between friends."Matt crossed his arms.  "I've been flirting with you for months, it took the massage to get you off the beach and in my bed.""Maybe, but you flirt with everyone and you go home alone about as often as I do," Arthur winked."You're both disgusting," Marci judged aloud.  She'd take her soft and fluffy Foggy Bear over this pair of shirtless mimbos any day.  (Totally.  She was a monogamous woman with standards.)prequel and epilogue to Jesse James, the thot!matt fic.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/OMCs, Matt Murdock/Steve Rogers
Series: massage therapy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739662
Comments: 5
Kudos: 64





	friction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AltyEx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AltyEx/gifts).



> For AltyEx who has been generously leaving comments on my old and new stuff for days - a kind comment on a fic is like a bubble of sunshine in my coffee and am flattered and unworthy of so much praise but very very grateful! They asked for the 'lost summer of massage' and I had just skimmed this in my folders looking for something else so - here it is! 
> 
> *This was posted ages ago, left up for like 2 days before paralyzing self doubt made me take it down - it's the follow up to thot!matt, aka the massage therapist one.

  
_Let’s make love_  
_Or make something out of blankets_  
_And skin in my mouth_  
_Or make some_  
_Friction somehow_  
_I know my hands are tied, but listen_  
_Let’s use something else_

"You're the only person I know with their own place that won't spread shit about me," Marci said, shifting her weight in Matt's hallway.

She was too tired, too wrung out and raw from the marathon argument with her father to deal with posturing tonight. Not that she cared what anyone in this - cough - low 'end' apartment.

Matt's hair was flat on one side and there's a line from where he was sleeping on something with a crease. He wasn't wearing his glasses and scrunched his face up, eyes trackless as he kicked at her luggage. "Um. Marci?"

"Can I please stay here until I figure something out?" she forced out. She caught movement in the dark room behind him and shivered. "Shit, you have company - "

"Michael? Everything okay?"

Matt winced and turned his head to call back. "Yeah, it's fine."

'Michael?' she mouthed before she remembered he was blind and wouldn't catch it.

The light flipped on and a huge muscular man covered in tattoos with long twists of hair down his back. She took a moment to appreciate the view and then another moment to appreciate it again when she realized who the guy was.

"Marci, this is my friend, Art. He's not here," Matt said, picking up a couple of her bags and leading her inside.

Arthur, King of Atlantis and the tabloids' most desired photo op, swaggered over and picked up the rest, raising a finger to his lips and winking.

"Michael and Art, got it," Marci said blankly, her ruined summer forgotten with the duo of nearly naked secrets carrying her luggage.

"She's my best friend's girl," Matt said.

'Art' nodded. "Smoggy, right?"

"Uh, sure," Matt hesitated. "That works."

Marci glanced between them. "You're both failing at the fake names, don't go out of your way on my account. I can keep secrets."

"Shit, thank you, I'll never remember. I hate being called 'Art'," Arthur said, visibly relaxing. "Foggy's great, why didn't you go to his apartment?"

"He's in Nebraska for the summer with his brother," Marci answered.

Arthur threw one of his saliva-enhancing arms around Matt's shoulder, jostling him roughly until Matt's face scrunched up into an 'almost' hiss. "Oh, that's why Matt's moping."

Matt swatted him away and seemed to process that they're not wearing pants. "Not moping. We'll get dressed - "

"He'll bring clothes, I'll get the beers, make yourself comfortable - you can sit on the couch, he doesn't fuck on the couch," Arthur said, helpfully. "He's very prickly about it."

Matt looked prepped to protest but threw his hands up and left her with his friendly guest. "I didn't know he had - that he would have company," Marci said, accepting the beer.

"I usually sneak out before Matt wakes up," Arthur shrugged. "My train's not running for a few hours."

"You don't even live in a real place," Matt called from the back.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I can't help that all your maps are broken."

* * *

"You should give her a massage, she's very tense," Arthur said with a determined nod.

"She's my best friend's girl, I can't give her a massage," Matt replied, scandalized.

A laugh burst from Arthur. "Ah, so you admit that it's foreplay and not just a favor between friends." 

Matt crossed his arms. "I've been flirting with you for months, it took the massage to get you off the beach and in my bed."

"Maybe, but you flirt with everyone and you go home alone about as often as I do," Arthur winked.

"You're both disgusting," Marci judged aloud. She'd take her soft and fluffy Foggy Bear over this pair of shirtless mimbos any day. (Totally. She was a monogamous woman with standards.)

"We have broken hearts that need care and attention," Matt said with a straight face that lasted exactly seven seconds before he lost it and reached for his beer. "Sorry, yeah, we're dicks."

Arthur shrugged. "We're single, it's allowed. My ex-girlfriend won't be with me until I agree to take the throne and I'm not ready for that. I still can't name all the sectors under my rule - "

"Because they're not real," Matt said in a sing-song voice. "And off the record, his ex is catching hell from her dad for dating an unemployed sailor. Is your dad giving you shit about Foggy?" he redirected at her.

She felt blindsided but couldn't deny it since all her bags were in his foyer. "Among other things."

"My Dad never lectures me about who I date," Arthur said. "I think it's a father-daughter thing. I should call her. Should I call her? I'm going to call her." He stumbled off the couch with his phone, paused, returned for his beer before hurrying into Matt's bedroom.

Matt took her hand. "You can stay as long as you need but I can barely pay the bills as it is. I give plasma twice a week just to keep ramen on the shelves. I won't tell anyone at school but - "

"Foggy slut-shames you all the time," Marci cut him off, refusing to give in to the threatening tears. She did squeeze his hand. "But I won't tell anyone that I have proof of your promiscuity."

Matt wrinkled his face. "Now I have to go to confession a day early, fuck you for making me feel like a whore."

"I call it like I see it, but I don't think you're a whore, you're obviously not getting paid." She pulled him into a hug. "Thank you. I don't know where else I would have gone."

"It's fine, but maybe call first next time," Matt replied, patting her back.

Arthur returned. "Did you give my ex a massage?"

"A totally non-sexual massage," Matt answered after a beat too long. "Once I figured out she was your princess I reluctantly friend-zoned her. I do my very best to follow society's rules."

Marci didn't need Matt's super-hearing to make out the 'princess' cackling from Arthur's phone. Arthur shook the phone at him. "I want to see you give your new roommate a non-sexual massage. Mera's picking me up, she's bringing more beer."

"This one night stand is more complicated than I anticipated," Matt sighed.

"I can't believe you hang out with royalty but live in a shithole," Marci said.

Arthur returned to the couch, flopping down and dropping a lotion bottle in Matt's lap and passing Marci a beer.

"Fine, fuck, but No Hetero, or whatever the disclaimer is for laying hands on a best friend's girl," Matt said, shifting on the couch and flexing his hands in Marci's direction.

Arthur glanced at Marci. "Does that count if you're Bi?"

"It's situational," Matt replied. "And I'm Pan, not that it's any of your business."

"You guys banged so, it's like, already his business, right?" Marci asked but Matt had his hands on her shoulders, on her back, on her biceps.

"I don't like labels, I just like sex. This isn't about sex but you totally need to lie down. Women and their high heels, I'll need to touch your feet."

Marci thought she'd be okay with that once his thumbs found a knot of stress in her spine and pressed hard - oh okay - she fucking got it. "You could get paid for this."

"Feeling up people? There's a word for that, you know," Matt laughed.

* * *

She was boneless and drunk when Mera and Arthur left late in the morning. The celebrities were friendlier than TMZ made them out to be and had left them breakfast and replacement beers before disappearing.

Matt passed out hours ago, sprawled across his bed in a relaxed and loose way she'd never seen in the dorm or anywhere with Foggy. But she didn't feel like she was imposing after the easy banter and massage therapy session and Mera had great ideas.

She pulled up Craigslist and skimmed the ads. She really didn't want to work retail and another unpaid internship wouldn't keep pods in the Keurig, once she bought them a Keurig.

And despite the fact she asked to sleep on Matt's couch for the immediate future - she said that before she'd actually seen the couch. She couldn't survive the summer on that couch.

The ad would legitimize the idea and she'd make sure to only schedule appointments with men that had deep pockets and referrals from respected friends and family. Mera already had three names to give the number to when she had all the pieces in place.

Matt could do so much more than punch heavy bags with those magic hands - she just had to convince him.

* * *

"I can't with your couch," Marci said on her third attempt to convince Matt to take an appointment.

He was sleepy and sour and she brought him a cup of not-instant coffee and a bagel to woo him. He took the coffee and refused the food with a familiar grumble - but not the string of curse words she'd gotten on the first two attempts.

"You have a license already, you paid for it," Marci reminded him.

"I didn't, Elektra paid," he admitted.

She frowned. "Really? Then you totally have to do it - you deserve to get something out of that breakup."

"You know nothing about it," Matt snapped.

"I know she made you happy and then she left. I know you never worried the shit out of Foggy like you do now and I know you didn't used to get your ass kicked or fuck anyone that flirts back - I know she hurt you."

Matt put the coffee down with a loud thump. "Not talking about this."

"Fine, but - "

"I've never been broke enough to resort to prostitution," he stated.

"You'll sell your blood but you won't use a marketable skill like massage therapy?" Marci countered. "You have a valid license so as long as you can keep your dick in your pants and your hands on top of the clothes - it's not prostitution."

He clenched his jaw, frowned and finally turned his head away, listening to something or rearing up to tell her to fuck off - she wasn't sure, she couldn't read Matt like Foggy.

"You hate the couch that much?"

She clasped his hands. "More."

* * *

"He's not a hooker," Marci announced after she'd shaken the polite soldier's hand. Stark opened his mouth to say something but James Rhodes clamped his hand over his mouth. Matt sighed but kept quiet - they had the rules down.

"I know what I'm paying for," James said. "Right, Tony?"

Stark gave him the finger but nodded. James slowly lowered his hand. "I'm just here for my back."

"He was hitting the pain pills a little too hard and your boy has great references," James said.

Matt raised his hand to give a thumbs up and Marci ignored Tony's leering look. They had discussed the rules in full and things had been signed. "Discretion all around," Matt said.

"I saw you took a cab, you want a drink while they're doing their thing?" James offered, motioning to the minibar.

Matt waited for her to tap his arm three times to turn to Tony and take his arm.

This was totally going to work. "I'd love a drink."

She forgot about setting a timer and was sharing Foggy's 'worst vacation ever' photos with Rhodey when Matt stepped out of the hotel room with a frustrated expression. She stood up, immediately worried and went to his side.

"What's wrong?"

"He's noisy, did you bring - " Matt started and she reached for her purse and passed him the sack of candy. Rhodey glanced between them suspiciously when Tony called out an apology and plea from the back.

Matt shook the bag at him. "Never been opened."

"Leave the door open," Marci suggested and Matt shrugged, making his way back the way he came with the sweets.

"What's that about?" Rhodey asked a moment before a pornographic moan echoed through the newly open door but was followed swiftly with a crinkle of plastic and a 'pop' like someone getting whacked with candy on a stick. "Never mind."

* * *

  
After the first client turned into a standing appointment, Matt was much more agreeable to the business plan. Not that she doubted he would be once he'd switched the 'foreplay' setting to 'platonic touching' for massage in his head.

Marci would never let him take a session unattended and was making mad connections with the clients' chaperones. Matt gave his one hour massage prepaid via PayPal while she mingled with a sexy bodyguard named Heimdall and rich trust funders like Tommy and Joy. She could even count the aunt and nephew set that taught her how to play backgammon as friends but she still wasn't sure about the client since only Matt had 'seen' him for the session.

It seemed to be helping Matt, too, even if he didn't always accept the tip at the end of the night - she hadn't figured out the key to his twisted little brain yet, but she couldn't figure out the pattern to it.

He always took the tip if they ended on time, but sometimes if the session ran over or ended with the client and Matt both too exhausted to talk, he'd refuse the bonus.

It took ten years and a syndicated talk show before she made the connection.

* * *

Marci pushes the doorbell to the adorable, homeowners' association approved, townhouse and waits ten seconds before pushing it again and rapping her fist on the door.

This can't wait, she's not going to let her stupid lost summer ruin what's turning out to be a functional marriage.

The door opens - finally - and she takes a moment of silence to bless America at Steve Roger's appearance.

"Can I help you?" 

"Is Matt here? I'm Marci - I need to talk to Matt," she says firmly.

Captain America blinks at her, startled but steps aside to let her inside so he can close the door. He scans her with sharp blue eyes. "Are you another one of his conquests or - "

"Ew, no. But I facilitated a lot of his encounters without full disclosure."

Cap tilts his head, mirroring Matt's 'listening to nothing' tic and suddenly smiles. "You're his pimp!"

She flinches. "You have super-hearing, too? Seriously?"

"Not like Matt's but enough that I can hear him cursing you upstairs. Please, come in, coffee? Juice?"

She realizes slowly that he's not upset or scandalized - huh. "Coffee?"

"Got it, how can I help you today?"

"You're not - pissed off that I helped prostitute your boyfriend?" Marci asks.

Steve shrugs. "He wasn't my boyfriend then and I'd like to think everyone settles down when they're out of their twenties. And he wasn't really taking money for sex, he was taking money for the massages."

Matt shuffles into the kitchen with his grumpy cat face on and points in her general direction accusingly. "Why are you stirring shit?"

"I'm sorry for enabling your crippling sexual addiction when I should have been getting you help," Marci blurts out.

Matt 'stares' at her. Steve walks out of the kitchen and she hears the door open and close before his full belly laugh drifts in through the open windows.

"Have you been watching Dr. Phil again?" Matt asks finally and she almost breaks down.

"Stop reading my mind," she snaps. They might play it in the waiting room of the business she's been representing but he can't prove anything.

Matt raises a hand to his head and sighs. "Coffee?"

Steve returns, red-faced but unapologetic as he swoops in to get the mugs and pot before Matt can. "You sit and talk while I mediate."

"We don't need mediation, we need Jesus," Matt mutters.

Steve kisses him chastely, but gropes him much less-chastely and manhandles him onto a stool. "Be nice to your pimp."

She remembers why she borrowed Foggy's car without permission this morning to get here. "You found a loophole."

Matt lowers his cheek to the table with a weary sigh. "Marci, it's old news, it's over."

"You waited until a full sixty minutes had passed and never took the tip - that's it, right? You didn't take the tip if you banged them," Marci insists.

"You never got it," Matt says. "You tried, I mean, you said I was slutting it up because I was heartbroken, and maybe I was, a little - but - it's the connection. It's not necessarily sexual, even if sometimes it's completely sexual - but - "

"Skin hunger," Steve says as he brings their coffee.

Matt wraps both hands around the mug. "Yeah. You know my hearing and smell, taste - all of that's enhanced, but so is my sense of touch. You helped me get paid to touch with full permission, I didn't even have to make fake conversation first. The texture of everyone's skin is so different and - I only have so much restraint, Marci, sometimes I had to break the rules and get a taste."

"There's a word for it and everything? I'm so sorry, Matt," Marci says.

"You're apologizing for the wrong thing," Matt replies. "You do owe me an apology for telling Foggy things that are not his business - but that summer helped me figure my shit out. You were around all the time so I didn't get to go out on patrol, and I put way too much thought into every sexual partner I had, like, actual thought and not tequila," he mutters with a wave. "You gave me habits, yuck."

Steve smiles fondly. "I appreciate those habits. Getting me drunk would never have worked."

Marci learns that 'smitten' and 'besotted' are two very different things but Steve and Matt manage them both.

"I didn't lie to you," Matt returns his attention reluctantly to her. "Maybe I utilized a loophole but - I have no regrets."

"Wade," Steve says.

"Okay, I have some regrets, but I prayed away the worst of them years ago. I'm in a good place, Marci. Granted, having my new friends learn about our 'lost summer' isn't ideal - but it doesn't change anything. Do we need to hug it out?"

They probably do but she shakes her head. "No, and you can apply the apology wherever you want."

"Can I apply it *your* promise that I'd never run into my clients when I was a working lawyer?" Matt asks.

She scoffs. "Nope, because you didn't run into any of them as a lawyer, you ran into them as Daredevil."

"She's got you there," Steve laughs.

* * *

"Do you know how I met Matt?" Steve asks, walking her to the car and jogging in place like an overly enthusiastic gym rat.

"Work?" she asks, figuring Captain America counts as a job.

"Nope. I was hitting on this guy and we played the number game, you know, how many partners and whatnot," Steve says, fiddling with his phone's playlist and not meeting her eyes. "Guy said four, and I couldn't really say anything because, the fuck you gonna learn from just four tries?"

Wow.

Captain America shrugs and meets her gaze. "Anyway, when he finally guilted the answer out of me; he turned me down and introduced me to Matt. We have similar coping methods and impulse control issues - but we're also a lot older and wiser now."

Fucking Wow.

"Are we good?" Steve asks. "You got all that guilt out of your system?"

"Yeah, thanks for - explaining," she manages. "Sorry for making things - weirder."

"No worries, but you're never getting another massage from him," Steve says. "I'm locking that shit down." He winks and jogs away before she can respond but - fair. Sad, but fair.

**Author's Note:**

> *Sticking with the catchy pop song theme, title and lyric tags belong to Kai Straw.


End file.
